The Early Days of Me and Him
by Bloody Satisfaction
Summary: How did Bill and Beatrix first meet? What events transpired on that fateful day? A oneshot. Enjoy!


**Author's Notes:**

Hi there! For those of you that don't know me I'm Jess and I'm an avid Kill Bill fan. About a year ago my friend Mel and I decided to write some fan fiction together. Some of you may be familiar with them; **Kill Bill Prequels Volume 1 & 2** and **Kill Bill: Three Months** (which will be completed soon enough).

But that's not why we're here. Mel and I wrote this fic for fun and decided it was worthy to share with you.

No big summary here, it's basically **how Bill and Beatrix first met**. Or at least how we think they met. It's a one-shot. Only one chapter and it isn't even close to the length of the Prequels. It's rated **T** for some language and gore but nothing drastic.

Okay, enough rambling. We hope you enjoy this as much as we enjoyed writing it!

Jess and Mel

* * *

**The Early Days of Me and Him**

The Longhorn was a bar halfway between San Antonio and Victoria Texas. It sat, like many bars, just off the interstate, amidst the dusty pick up trucks and gas stations. It wasn't a great bar, or even close to being charming in any sort of way, but it was a popular bar with the locals and the type of place that most tourists avoided like the plague. The drinks were stiff and the company was loose…so to speak.

Some said The Longhorn had been standing for well over eighty years, but looking at it, it was hard to believe it could have lasted that long. The outside was typical of the area, lined with a wooden sidewalk and a hanging sign that displayed the bar's name in full western style lettering. The windows, like the rest of the building, were covered in dust kicked up by years of large trucks and careless folks who were always passing through.

Inside, the decor was Jack Daniels meets Bud Light. The walls, like the floor were of wood paneling and the bar itself was of a dark rotted oak. Barstools dotted along the long bar, mismatched and in ill condition. Likewise, round tables were scattered across the floor and along the far left wall a row of dark booths resided to fill the rest of the space. On the other side of the bar were four pool tables, most of them with a number of rips in their green faded felt. There had been some attempt at decor, many years ago, but all that remained was an old cracked cow skull, a dartboard, an outdated Daytona 500 calendar and a variety of flickering neon beer signs. A ceiling fan turned slowly and methodically. There were no windows, it was impossible to decipher this hot early evening from any other time of day.

Over the radio, the local country music station was blaring. A group of locals, who seemed to always be there, were lounging on the barstools. They were a mixed group of nearly all men, a couple Hispanic, two or three large typical Texan looking guys. Two older women, who looked just as hard and drunk as the men were seated at a table. Behind the bar, a dark skinned man of nearly elderly age busied himself with pulling the tap on the beer keg and wiping the counters with a dirty rag.

The booths were empty, save for one in the corner, where a man sat alone. He had been there for nearly an hour, ordering a scotch on the rocks, and then a shot of tequila. After that, he asked for water and nothing else. He had been silent but respectful to the bartender and had said nothing to anybody else in the bar. He had received a few strange looks, but he was a man who just possessed a look that told others to leave him alone, and so they did.

This man was of course Bill, also known as The Snake Charmer to those who were in a position to know such things. He sat stoically, in a black western style shirt, with red piping and accents of flamboyant embroidery on the sleeves. This was paired with black slacks and worn but expensive looking black cowboy boots. He somehow both fit in and stood out here, with his sleek and sophisticated Southwestern meets Asian style. His right hand, which was currently wrapped around a glass of water, bore a large turquoise ring, on his other hand a plain silver one. At the moment, he had his graying brown hair tied back……he was here for a business meeting after all.

Bill had shown up early, in his red '67 Mustang, and decided he'd wait it out in the bar instead of strolling around the sad excuse of a town that surrounded it. It was too hot outside anyways, and even the rustic dark bar was a welcome intermission from the heat.

Bill's meeting was to be with a possible recruit. This recruit was a young man, well young to Bill at least, being twenty-nine. He lived in nearby San Antonio. Bill had been watching him for years, keeping in contact with him. This young man was currently employed as a bodyguard for a local tycoon, a rumored drug tycoon in fact. Bill had seen the kid's talent early on, especially with firearms. The kid was a gunslinger, and Bill liked a good Texas gunslinger. Bill now felt it was time for his long watched protégé to move on to better things, to his organization the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad to be exact. He'd contacted the young man, and they had set up this meeting. Bill couldn't say he was completely sold on bringing the kid in yet, but he wanted to discuss matters before he made any major decision.

Glancing at his silver Rolex, Bill noted the time. The kid was ten minutes late. Bad start, Bill hated tardiness. He scowled, the frown exaggerated by the dim lit surroundings. Bill considered calling on his cell phone, but...he did no favors, unless he felt it was deserved...and so far, this kid did not deserve his time.

Leaning back, he sent a sharp dark glance across the bar. He'd wait ten more minutes and then he'd get the hell out of Dodge. He had better things to do than waste his time in a shit hole like this.

Two minutes passed allowing that inane waiting to persist and then the dull clattering of the overhead cowbell echoed over the shallow crowd, indicating the arrival of an occupant that was certainly no Texas Gunslinger. It was a girl. Well, she could pass as a young lady but that was cutting it close. She stood within the doorway, her figure silhouetted by the neon lights. She was adorable, to say the least. Her frame was well built and tall. At a younger age she could have been considered lanky but as time progressed her athletic and yet angelic stature proved worth it. She sported a pair of well worn bell bottom jeans, a partially tucked in white blouse decorated with a lotus flower print in the upper corner, a navy blue hoodie was zipped half way up, and a pair of brown suede sandals finished off the attire. Long locks of golden weaved blonde hair were pulled up in a high pony tail with not entirely clean cut bangs framing her face.

Aiming for the appeal of a rather unusual beauty, it wasn't just looks that set her apart from any normal occupant. Her entire demeanor was concealed behind a steely resolve and the shine in those bright blue eyes that gave her an all out perky façade.

Well needless to say like any occupant entering a bar she was there to drink. Over her shoulder was a khaki colored miniature duffle bag which she was casually hefting over to the bar with the weariness of one that had traveled a distance. She had trekked clear across Austin, hitch hiking, and walking. She hadn't planned to end up at the Longhorn but her feet fucking hurt and she felt the need to replenish herself.

This unusual beauty's name was Beatrix Kiddo.

Coming up the far side of the bar, Beatrix dropped the duffle with a weighty thud and quickly retired onto the vacant stool. The bartender, whom was attending to another customer, gave the tall blonde girl a fleeting glance. She could aim for the legal age of twenty one, giving off that older than she looked essence but even so, this bartender wasn't an idiot.

Being noted and obviously not one to not get what she came for, she quickly aimed for a tactic that wouldn't give her any shit. She was a smart gal.

"Hello," her voice rang out to a man sitting a bar stool down. He was rugged, classic bar type, halfway drunk off his ass. It was easy to catch his attention and she put on a full frontal of a pearly white toothed smile. "Wanna buy me a drink?"

The man returned the young blonde's smile with a smile of his own, although his was far from clean or pristine. She was good looking to a sober man, but to a drunk man...shit, she was as hot as fuck.

"Well...hello to ya too honey...sure," the man drawled, giving her long frame a quick dirty once-over, "I'll buy ya a couple ' a ' drinks...," he chuckled, not without some other intention. Women like this did not come into bars like this….ever. Most of the women here were just one chromosome short of men anyways. But this girl was young, fresh faced and pretty as hell. The man's smile widened. He was feeling a little frisky, with the drinks and all...and now a perfect opportunity arose.

Meanwhile, the aging but obviously savvy bartender had made his way over to where Beatrix was sitting from behind the bar. "Ma'am," he looked at the perky young woman with a stern expression, "I'm gunna have to see your ID."

"Awww...naw ya don't Fred," the drunk man besides Beatrix garbled, waving an unsteady hand, "Leave 'er alone...I'm buyin' the drinks for this little lady anyways..."

Fred, the bartender shook his head, "Forget it Jake. I have tah ID her, ya know the rules around here. No youngins'... not after what happened last year."

Jake didn't seem to care, "Ehhh, that's a load a shit, gimmie some drinks...me and girle 'll split 'em...," he cast a shifty expression towards Beatrix, "...We might be sharin' some other things later anyways..."

Meanwhile, sitting with a still air, Bill remained waiting in the corner booth. Eight minutes to go and he was getting the hell out of here. This had turned into a complete waste of his time, although he at least had a bar recommendation for his brother.

At the ringing of the cowbell and the entrance of the tall blonde, Bill had paid little attention, his look downcast into his glass of water...that prominent frown on his face as he was lost in some thought or another. But, when a conversation at the bar sparked up that stood out from the general white noise of mumbled drunken banter, he looked up.

Bill's brows rose fractionally as his gaze instantly bypassed the two men involved and went straight for the tall blonde woman who was in-between the two. Now, there was a thing of real beauty.

"Goddamn," he mumbled to himself, blindly raising his glass to take a long sip, eyes still on the blonde. It was a well known fact amongst those who knew Bill that he was a fool for the blondes, he always had been...he always would be. And not just blondes, but tall, amazingly gorgeous, perfectly built blondes. Bill had a rather high standard when it came to women and this young lady surpassed that standard.

'Young' being a key word there, and a small smirk touched Bill's lips. She was very young and while Bill was not one to bat an eyelash in the face of age differences, she was exceptionally young. It was apparent by the gleaming eagerness for life in those large blue eyes of hers...the tilt of her thin eyebrows.. And not just that, but her very posture, the way she moved...the placement of her hands, the kick of her sandaled feet, the bright upward turn of her pink lips. Yet, but there was a hardness about her...she'd lived a little, had some real shit in her life.

Bill prided himself on reading people with a keen insight and this beautiful young woman was a good paperback of information...not yet a dusty dictionary like himself, but not a silly ten page childish story either, she had some history...but she still had just begun.

It couldn't be said that Bill was instantly in love with Beatrix Kiddo, but it could be said he was instantly intrigued with her, not to mention attracted as hell. But, Bill, despite some other undesirable qualities, was not some desperate old fool who preyed on young women. He could get women, that wasn't the issue...and as much as he would have liked to have had a good fling with this woman, he knew better. If he had been younger, say twenty years or so younger, he probably have already been over there, complimenting her, smooth talking, telling her a joke...maybe buying her a drink, but that was too cliché for him, he would have thought of something very special for this woman. He knew what woman liked, what women loved...he would have promised her the sky and in the end, probably fallen a few stars too short. But, it would have been great while it lasted.

But, that was then, and this was now. And now, Bill was not that same young man, although...he was in many ways, very much the same. Now he was here on business, there would be time for women later...just not this woman, a pity.

Glancing at his watch again, Bill settled back in his seat. Five more minutes he would wait for this once would be employee of his. In the meantime, he could subtlety enjoy the breathtaking sight of the young woman at the bar, brown eyes resting on her with an introspective interest.

"Just give me the fuckin' drink Fred. I'll deal with 'er if she gets too frisk-a," Jake insisted eagerly at the bartender. The young blonde continued to sit there with a perfectly put on smile. Her hands moved up from her lap and settled daintily on the counter top. She wasn't usually patient but considering she was going to get the drink no matter what she wasn't concerned with the time it would take.

Jake, the drunk, had more than casually moved into the stool beside Beatrix once he had equally convinced Fred to get the drink. He was smart to keep his grubby hands down and occupy the minute it took to get the drinks with a question; "So, girlie what brings ya around these parts?"

Beatrix picked her blue eyes up and remained neutral. Her pretty blonde head canted to the side and she replied quite seriously, "I've had a shitty few years."

An outburst of profound chuckles admitted. Jake found that hysterical and the blonde just looked at him like the dumb fuck he was. "Yeah…well…" Jake gasped between laughs. "I'm sure…ya have…honey. Ah, here we go," as Fred put down the newly opened bottle of Jack Daniels, Jake slipped it over in the blonde's direction.

Long white fingers wrapped around the rim of the bottle, not her preferred drink but it would do, and tilting her chin up she took a good long slug. Now, Beatrix was young, naïve, and at times oblivious but one thing she wasn't oblivious about were men; especially drunk ones. She had lived around them long enough to know just how their minds worked. Jake was no different. He was going to get her drunk off her ass, take her to the back of his truck, and ram it. Well, as some would first perceive Beatrix Kiddo was no slut. Of course she could play the act of any dumb horny blonde, and that didn't go to say she had played it once or twice, but she wasn't looking to play it tonight.

All she wanted was the drink and she wanted to enjoy her drink and she had her drink so the next plan of action was easy. She had allowed Jake to take a swallow of the whiskey before she formidably took the bottle back. Her pink tainted lips were in a tight smile. "Thanks for the drink," she said and proceeded to slip off the bar stool.

Now, Beatrix was smart, she always was but in her younger years she didn't always 'think' before she acted nor did she put together the consequences for her actions. That didn't go to say old habits die hard, because in her later years she was infamous for being spontaneous…..but right now she was just spontaneously foolish.

"Bitch," and the young blonde didn't get very far with her drink at that moment. "No fucking way are you leavin' with that drink without giving me somethin' for it." Jake exclaimed in a string of drunken anger. He had a strong hold on her forearm and held her secularly in place. "You aren't going nowhere."

Beatrix quickly played this up. She tried to jerk her arm away but even being close to Jake's height, shorter by a few inches he seemed to have the advantage.

"Let go," she demanded with another feeble attempt to release herself.

"Aw," Jake tightened his grip. "The little girlie got her slutty little ass in trouble. Gunna have ta teach ya a lesson." Jake than wrapped both bulky arms around the lean blonde in an engrossing bear hug.

"Get your fucking hands off me…or…" Beatrix began through a set of now firm clenched teeth.

"Or you'll what? Hm? You're nothin' but a skinny little girl who's only purpose in life is tah please guys like me."

Blue eyes flashed. If one thought Beatrix was an overly bubbly and perky blonde who couldn't stand up for herself, they would be sourly disappointed. In one swift motion a long leg bent up and connected into Jake's gut; causing the man to release and stumble back with a sharp in take of breath. She took a reflexive retreat back just for good measure, and the fact this guy had pissed her off…and that Beatrix lacked means of controlling her temper (this taking a few years to master and still coming up short of remaining cool in situations), she rolled up a fist and clipped him in the nose.

"FUCK!" Blood now soiled the blonde's white knuckles and Jake's grisly features, which he was now clasping tightly on to. With a small satisfactory smile plastered across her features the tall blonde turned on her heel and began to walk away with her soon to be enjoyed drink.

"You fucking cunt!" Jake yelled between his hands and a good amount of blood pouring out between his fingers, "Yer gunna pay fer that one..." He took a few wobbly steps forward, now unsteady not only from alcohol but his newly acquired injury. 'Ya ain't gunna pull a fast one on me...no...sir..." He attempted to steady himself by leaning on a barstool.

Fred, the bartender, had stopped his methodical wiping down of the counter as the violence between Jake and the blonde broke out. He frowned, looking cross. He knew something like this was bound to happen. He hadn't wanted to allow the woman to get a drink, for fear something like this would happen. Well, too late for that. But, there was little he could do for the moment. If he was lucky, that would be it and it would be over with. It wouldn't be the first or last time blood was split on the floor of The Longhorn. The other customers in the bar had all stopped their conversations and turned to watch the action.

One of these customers was of course, Bill. His former expression of wistful and amused longing was replaced with a sudden interest that went far beyond simple complimentary male thoughts on the subject of aesthetic beauty. He watched closely, and with an intense skeptical gaze, as the grisly drunkard got what was coming to him. Bill had heard enough of the conversation to get the gist of what was happening. He thought it quite funny and witty on the young lady's part, getting her drink and walking away. The girl had some real guts that was for sure. That, or she was simply a stupid flirt, but Bill did not think that was the case. She was smart, she knew what she was doing...although, her actions seemed a little spontaneously thought out. She was young yes, but he saw something else in that newly arrived glint in her blue eyes.

She could hold her own too, physically. Then again, Bill had seen his fair share of women fight, and no cat frights either. He was tough to impress, and while this woman could throw a good knee and deliver a good hook, he thought her actions nothing more than basic brawling techniques. What he was impressed by, was her demeanor and her gutsy attitude.

Smirking widely, he folded his arms on the table and continued to watch. At the very least he would be entertained for the last few minutes of his stay here. Bill loved nothing more than some good old fashioned bloodshed, especially when brought on by a knockout like this blonde. Perhaps this trip wasn't a complete waste of time after all.

Jake, still reeling, spat out a large wad of blood and mucus onto the floor. He snarled at the retreating back of the tall blonde, as she haughtily made her way to a table, alone...with HIS drink, that drink he had bought her. Fucking bitch whore. Who did she think she was?

Face flushed with anger and liquor, he made a clumsy grab for the blonde's arm, twisting it around painfully, "Come on back 'here, bitch!" he hissed,"I ain't through with ya yet..." Yanking her towards him, he made a grab for her chest.

His hand didn't get very far as it was ruthlessly struck with the whiskey bottle. Luckily she only used the blunt edge, causing the liquid within to stir but not spill. He pulled back his hand with a muttered curse and once again gave the blonde another chance to escape. This time Beatrix took quick strides to put space between herself and her drunken pursuer.

She had made it clear across the expansion of the bar to a line of pool tables. All of the men that had been playing had long since paused their games to watch the brawl; leaving the pool tables unoccupied.

"Come here," Jake was close again and he reached out another arm to make a grab for her with a surprising amount of speed and precision; like a snake ready to strike, Jake was meet with a hard thawk on the head by, of all things..…pool stick. One that saw this sight could find it hellishly amusing and freakishly cool all at the same time. The tall blonde stood there, her façade void, blue eyes sparking, and she was holding that pool stick in a fashion one saw on late dated kung fu style shows.

Jake had soon recovered and was staring at her a tad flabbergasted. He would have laughed if he wasn't so drunk and he hadn't just taken a rather harsh blow to the side of his head. His mouth opened and he did manage a short lived chuckle. "You gotta be shitting me."

The small down turn of her chin acted as a reply of no and she quickly swung the stick around for another strike. Although drunk Jake saw it coming and batted at the point causing the end to puncture air. "You're shitting me and I'm fuckin' sick of it!" He exclaimed, and being through with fucking around he sprang at her.

Both blonde and drunk hit the floor. In the process the pool stick snapped in two leaving the blonde pinned under the drunk and the half a pool stick at her side. Well, this wasn't going to work. She was in a considerably demeaning and 'feminine' position. She despised that and the small crease in her brow signified this. So, before Jake could make any further attempts at trying to feel her up she brought up her knee, made contact, pushed, flipped, and now she had Jake on his back.

Almost casually straddling him, Beatrix, breathes labored due to the exertion and she had it with this guy, she threateningly pushed the splintered edge of the pool stick into his throat. Her pretty blonde head canted. "It was very rude to call me a cunt."

Jake stared up at the suddenly rather threatening blonde, his eyes wide, a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He bore his teeth, a good amount of blood in between them, "Naw...it ain't rude if it's true," he said, but the former confidence in his voice was less prominent than before. "Ya think yer pretty tough bitch," he snarled, "But...you ain't that tough."

Reaching out, he grabbed onto a handful of blonde locks and yanked Beatrix's head back. This allowed him just a brief moment to escape from underneath her, and in doing so he kicked her off of him with a large boot. But, it was a clumsy move and he ended up having to crawl away from her on his hands and feet.

By now, Bill was halfway out of his seat; any former notion about this woman was now being replaced with a sudden vested interest. What she had done with that pool stick, now that was pretty fucking cool...and it was easy to see a gleaming katana in it's place...for certainly such a beautiful weapon fit her much better. She handled the 'weapon' well, she was no expert, but she had something...she had style. And he dug the ground fighting too, nice touch.

His smirk widening, Bill continued to watch her closely. She didn't need his help, she was no 'damsel in distress' but it was the look in her eyes that he was watching. For a second there, he thought he saw it, the look of a killer...he did not see it often, but he knew it like the back of his hand. He did not question his 'sixth sense' on this, but he had to be sure.

Jake spun around, getting unsteadily on his feet, he picked up a nearby barstool...wielding it like the deadly weapon it was not. "Come on over here and get me bitch! Or is it cunt?" He spat again, "Either way, you ain't shit, come on...just try some of that karate shit on me...I'm gunna fuck ya up," his grisly lip twisted, "Too bad it ain't the way I was thinkin'..."

He then swung the stool at her head.

Beatrix ducked. By now all she had acquired wound wise was a bloody lip and she was going to keep it that way. Jake was going to be less lucky. As he took another unsteady step forward, bringing the stool up for another try, she performed a round house kick that sent the stool across the room. It was easy to see she was fucking irate now. This asshole wouldn't leave her alone! He seemed undaunted by the fact he lost his 'deadly' weapon and was approaching the blonde with extended grabby hands.

She stood there, stock still. Only the right type could tell her unmoving, unblinking, complete 'deer in the headlights', was complete and utter concentration. She was waiting for him and when he grabbed onto her forearm she still had that pool stick and she stuck it right in his arm.

The bar was echoed with a blood curdling scream and a lot of blood. She wasted no time, taking the crimson soiled poker and pressing against his chest. Jake remained still, he wasn't 'that' stupid.

The blonde let out an exasperated breath. "You're right," she began almost casually. "I am a cunt." Her lips curved into eerily devilish smile. "But it was still rude."

She pressed harder.

"Some people are not worth killing for free," a voice spoke up next to the blonde. This voice was soft, unmistakable and calmly menacing in an almost mesmerizing way.

When and how quickly Bill had gotten to the side of Beatrix was unsure, but he had...and just in time too. His left hand reached out, and with lightning quick speed, it clamped around the top of the blonde's knuckles with an iron grip, blocking her path of impalement.

He offered her a wide smirk and a tilt of the head, raising an eyebrow in the process, "Take my word for it."

Jake, a literal mask of sweat on his face now, stared wide eyed, his mouth frozen open in pain and surprise. He stood stock still, eyes darting between the irate blonde and this newcomer. He had been howling over the gaping hole in his arm, but that was momentarily forgotten as he gawked. "She was gunna kill me," he whispered to the man, as if vouching for his case, "If ya hadn't stepped in...shit...thanks...you're a lifesaver."

Bill frowned, eyes turning sharply on the drunkard, "No," he said shortly, and in a similar movement from before, his hand shot out and clamped a formed claw of fingertips over the wound in Jake's arm. Jake let out a garbled sound of pain. Bill's fingers dug in, but his expression remained emotionless as he stared down the other man, "Leave," he said softly.

Jake nodded, teeth grated and Bill let go as suddenly as he'd clamped on. Taking a few stumbling steps backwards, Jake shot a venomous look at the blonde. He appeared to want to say something further, but looking at the other man, he changed his mind and stumbled out of the bar, slamming the door behind him.

Bill turned away, still frowning, and strolled over to the bar, just as calmly as he had when he'd first walked in. "Two damp towels," he spoke to Frank, who was now frozen behind the bar. Nodding silently, Frank retrieved the requested items and handed them to him.

Approaching Beatrix, Bill handed one to her with a soft smile, and began using the other to methodically remove any blood from his own hands. He said nothing for the moment.

Beatrix stared. Staring was rude but she was fixed on the man before her. When, where, why, and how all going through her mind in a mad rush. This 'older' man had shown up out of the blue, used a hand on her, which she had to admit had been pretty fucking risky. Touching her when she was so fucking pissed off but, looking back, to when he touched her…she felt no reflex to deflect him. He had a very strong grip, much stronger than she first perceived, but what got her was how he handled it.

Not only had he been able to 'tame' her but he managed to scare off the drunk and added pain in the process, a major plus. All in all, the entire event left the blonde perplexed.

This man, wiping his hands like he had mere mud on them, said Jake hadn't been worth killing…Ah, his voice, she liked his voice. Quickly switching back to what he said…she wasn't going to…

She pulled her blue eyes away. The wet towel was beginning to drip down her arm and the cool liquid snapped her back to reality. She then purposelessly began to wipe the blood from her own hands. Her chin was now tilted down to her chest; an almost coy smile gracing her sweaty features, and eyes half lidded as she washed up. Blue eyes slowly came back up to him. She pursed her lips and then pointed out, in a contradicting undertone, "I…wasn't…going to kill him."

"Perhaps not," Bill replied, folding the slightly bloody towel up in a neat square, "But you wanted to, and given the right sequence of events, you would have," he looked up at her, "you certainly could have."

It was in those last few seconds, as he watched her jab the broken pool cue through the drunkard's arm that Bill saw what he had been looking for. He had been right, she was a killer. Now, she wasn't a killer at the moment, but she had it in her, he could tell...and looking at her now, he could easily see it. So much in fact, he wondered how he'd not seen it right off the bat. Perhaps he had been a little distracted by her looks to see past them and find that glint dancing within those large blue eye's of hers. He knew then, seeing it...that he had to make his move...the situation was set up perfectly for him to swoop in and do what he did best. This was an unexpected turn of events, but not an unwelcome one.

He could see her staring at him as he had quietly ridded himself of the blood on his hands. Surely she was confused, surprised and somewhat dumbfounded by his sudden appearance...but that was fine, Bill was used to that reaction to his presence. She thought he was bold, reaching out and physically stopping her, but what she didn't yet know, was that he was far beyond bold, he was most likely the most self assured person she would ever meet in her entire life.

Setting the towel down on a nearby table, he turned back to her and confidently extended his hand, now clean of any bloodshed. Again, he smiled, "Now," he said with a coy look, "I can properly shake your hand...,the name's Bill."

"Bill," she repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. This simple name, the name that belonged to the man that had so unexpectedly appeared would become a name she would both love, hate, loath, despise, and resent…but for now it was just a name.

She nonchalantly tossed her own blood soiled towel onto the table and put her hand in his. She gave a confident and strong shake perhaps surprising for a girl her age, but after what she had just displayed it lost any sting.

"I'm Beatrix Kiddo." The blonde now had a thin smile gracing her façade that was far from fake. She wasn't going to be a smart ass, she wanted to be polite. She was intrigued as all hell by this guy. "It's nice to meet you…."

"A pleasure to meet you as well," Bill replied, the amused but still kind smirk on his face widening as he felt the strong grip of her handshake. Beatrix Kiddo, now that was one hell of an original name. He had known some hippies to name their children odd names, but this one was new. Her mother must have been high at the time of naming. He rather liked it though; it fit her, in a strange way. It would become a name forever etched in his memory.

"Well Kiddo," he said, already loving the wordplay behind the name. Actually, it had just kind of came out as the habit of a man who was always looking for an ironic moment, but it would stick in a way beyond anything that he could even comprehend at the moment, "Do you often drink Jack Daniels?" He gestured to the bottle she had tossed aside during the brawl, "I don't mean to make presumptions, but Jack doesn't seem your type of poison? I would be more than willing to buy you what you would rather have, even though I'm fairly sure you can't legally drink...I'm not against corruption of the youth." He held up a hand, his look becoming slightly more serious, "And, for the record, I'm not attempting a lame ass pass on you, you can believe me or not about that...but I would hope you'd take my word on it." His brows rose, "Just a little conversation."

Beatrix would take his word for it along with everything else he said. Again, there was something about his voice that she liked and the words he used…it was charming. Even the way he had called her 'Kiddo' was enduring. No one made her name sound quite like that. When she was little she hated her name. It was so weird and she always received odd looks when she said it. But, older she learned it was unique, putting aside the fact the only reason it was unique was because her mother had had five joints and fifty or so shots to influence it.

"Yeah," she began a little unevenly. As intrigued as she was she couldn't let her complete guard down. But, he was offering her a free drink and seeing as her past drink was spilt on the floor…she didn't like it anyway, she couldn't pass this one up.

He made it clear he wasn't making a pass at her and by the vibes she was getting she could tell. He didn't seem the type, that or he was older…and she was young…and…even though one might first perceive it, Beatrix was far from in love with Bill at first sight. That didn't mean she wasn't infatuated with him at first sight. Well, all attraction aside he offered her a free drink; best to take what she could. Besides, all he wanted to do was converse. There was no harm in conversing. She quickly perked back up. "I'd like a margarita, on the rocks, no salt."

Bill smiled, widely this time, the smile he used to use in his younger days for charming allure...now he tended to reserve it for moments of genuine charm. "Now, that's more like it….although, I prefer the traditional salt myself." He indicated the booth he had been sitting in before, "Please, take a seat, I'll get the drinks."

Fred the bartender was more than willing to comply with Bill's order, even though he knew one of the drinks was for the young woman. Fred was not about to argue with this man, not after what he'd seen.

A few minutes later, Bill returned with the drinks, and set a glass in front of Beatrix, "No salt, on the rocks" he quipped, sitting down across from her with his own margarita, "Myself, salt, on the rocks." He stirred the drink a little with the supplied stir stick, giving it a skeptical look, "I have to say, just by looking at this...it's going to taste like shit." He chuckled, glancing across the table, "Once you've lived off of Mexican margaritas, it's hard to have anything else."

Leaning back, he became slightly more stoic. He knew exactly what he wanted to get to with this Beatrix Kiddo, but he had to go about it the right way. He knew, from years and years of experience, that asking somebody to possibly kill for you required some smooth tact. Bill had a generally good idea of how to go about this, but every person was different and it took some subtle prodding to figure out his means of getting through.

"What you did back there," he began casually, "...that was pretty good work." No, no, that was too...professional for a young woman like this. He leaned forward, pinning her with a sly smirk, "Hell, Kiddo...that was fucking cool. I can tell you've been in situations like that before, call me...a little knowledgeable on the subject," a short laugh, "Do you watch kung fu movies much? Maybe some chop saki Japanese flicks?"

Beatrix lit up, well, the widening in her eyelids and the curve in her slender brows showed this. Finally someone that could identify what exactly she had been trying to perform. "Yes," she said almost a little too excitedly. Realizing her sudden burst of excitement she toned it down by taking a subtle sip of the margarita from the dainty little straw. Bill had been right, it did taste like shit.

She brought a more leveled gaze back up to him. "I used to watch them all of the time…even the early morning flicks. "I thought…" Getting ready to do some explaining; which was a truth. Younger she didn't have as much trouble with the truth, considering the fact that she was hardly as jaded or corrupted…and well…there honestly wasn't anything for her to lie to herself about…but that didn't mean she was highly secretive.

She tilted her chin up in regal and almost pleased manner. "….that it was cool, so I wanted to try it. You know, the basic stuff. But then, I got really into it. I started reading up on different martial art styles, eagle's claw, tigers, bears, cranes, and…" She pursed her lips in momentary thought. "…fish. All of these assholes always laughed at me but when I'd break an arm or a nose, they weren't laughing anymore."

She realized she had gone off on a tangent. She took another swallow of the liquor to help her head. "Mmm, yeah, I'm familiar with that type of stuff."

Bill laughed; enjoying her young and fresh take on things...he sometimes forgot what that was like. Bill had simply done and seen too much to have any ounce of that jubilant naivety left in him. Nowadays, he preferred to see it in others, see how he could mold it...that enthusiasm and passion. This young woman was unique and she had a great deal of energy about her.

"Well," he began, still smiling, "...I can't say your Jackie Chan quite yet, but for being self taught, I think you're doing very well." His smile dropped to a far more stoic look, hard brown eyes boring into her, "I think you have a good deal of potential."

He let that sink in, taking a long sip from his shitty margarita. He then pushed it aside and leaned forward; so that he was halfway across the table, ringed fingers folding in front of him, "I would like to tell you a few things," his voice dropped to a near whisper, which wasn't much of a change from his normal tone, "But...before I tell you any of this, I must tell you, that there could be undesirable consequences to you, if you were to share this information with anybody else."

He waited, watching her closely. This was a sudden and big responsibility put onto such a young person so quickly. But, he could see the wisdom in her, wisdom that went beyond her years. She was bouncy and young yes, but there was more there and he could only hope she would take the chance, because...if she was willing to take it, it would be...in Bill's mind, the best decision of her life.

Beatrix sat there staring again. There went her ideals of a harmless conversation. He wanted to tell her…secrets…Fuck, for all she knew he could whisper some profaine and perverted comment in her ear…but…the way he was looking at her with those hard brown eyes she didn't think it was that kind of thing. No, he wasn't going to tell her a secret, that was naïve kiddy crap; he wanted to tell her…information.

Her position shifted. The mere fact she was a risk taker was building up her curiosity. If she had been older maybe she would have taken longer than the minute she took to make her choice. If she was older she would have realized the threat interlaced in his words and she certainly wasn't aware what he was about to tell her would forever change her life. All she thought was it was really fucking cool that this guy approached her and wanted to tell her stuff to begin with. But, still looking back on the moment she wouldn't judge her choice. It was always right.

That overly cutely thinned out smile came back, her arms crossed on the table; she craned forward, meeting him the rest of the way. "I won't tell a soul."

Bill's lip twisted, looking at her now in close proximity under hooded eyelids, "Good," he said, still whispering, but his voice had taken on a cooler tone, "...because, if you do, I'll kill you, and that would be goddamn shame."

He laughed, but it wasn't one of those uncomfortable laughs to cover up a brutal comment, it was a haughty laugh at his own ability to very well carry out what he had just said.

"You see," he began, back to a stoic seriousness, "Kiddo...," he liked using that word for her, "...in our society, there are people, normal people...who do typical jobs, the sort that you've known your whole life. They work in bars like this, sell cars, vacuum carpets, make...fucking ice cream, whatever. And then, there are people who work...underground so to speak, doing things that normal society would consider morally wrong and unethical, but certainly needed. I'm sure you've seen this sort over-idealized in movies and television...mobsters, hit men, and so on."

He paused, letting that sink in, "What I do, is run an organization...I call this organization The Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. As the name implies, we work in the field of professional contract killing. Killing for money. It's not murdering in that way say a serial killer would do, it's very detached. Clients contact me, they want somebody dead...I generally don't question nor care who they want offed. Often it's an estranged spouse, former employer, jilted lover, sibling, rival...I've heard it all. The fee for the services of my Vipers is quite steep, generally ranging from $200,000 to a couple million per job. I, or those who work for me, do the job and receive a good sized proportion of the fee. I take a share for myself. Those who work for me do quite well financially to say the least."

He paused again, allowing that new bit of information seep in, "That's the basics of it, but of course...there are more...complicated aspects, but you get the idea. Now," he raised a hand, "I have a very clear idea of how I want my organization to operate and the...style of it, so to speak. I like to employ women, preferably...physically appealing women," he raised a brow, "Believe me, there is an effectiveness in this. But, don't get me wrong, I'm not a pimp," Bill almost laughed at himself for saying that, thinking about his own background and what had been said about him over the years, "My Vipers deal in death, not sex. I respect them for their abilities. I also have an...affinity for the martial arts and the art of the samurai sword, and I like to have all of my Vipers trained in various techniques of fighting that generally center around the Asian martial arts. Along with that, I also expect them to be fully capable with firearms and other weapons. They have to be smart, tough, quick thinking, unorthodox and most of all," a glint crossed his eyes, "...natural born killers. They must kill on command, without remorse. I am telling you this, because I am offering you a position in my organization. You have the qualities that I am looking for in a new recruit and I am in need of the best I can find."

He leaned back a little, watching Beatrix's reaction closely, "If you agree to come under my tutelage, I will teach you things you never even knew existed. I will be your primary teacher, but….I also employ other methods and teachers to mold you into the kind of killer that I need. I have been doing this for others for sometime, and I can tell you, I'm the best goddamn teacher you will ever have."

Bill reached out and laid a hand over Beatrix's forearm, it was a very paternal gesture, "I know that you've come from shit Kiddo," his tone became more personal, "I can see it in you. What I'm offering you; it's a chance to get away from that, to do things that most people can only fathom in their wildest dreams. You will get a chance to see the world, earn fat sums of money...and," he inclined his head, "...kill human beings, most of whom deserve to die anyways. I'm not going to tell you it's going to be easy, or that I'm a nice guy, or even a good person, I'm a murdering bastard, you will find that out in due time...but," a smile played on his lips, "...it will be the best fucking job you will ever get a chance at, and I'm giving you that chance now. You should be honored, believe me."

With that, he let go of her arm and sat back. He took a long sip from his drink, "I want you to think about this, please don't reply within less than a minute. You could very well die or be permanently damaged if you work for me, in fact...it's a likely situation and it's happened countless times to those I employ. You will have to leave your home, detach yourself for everybody and everything you know. Your family and friends will become myself and the rest of the Viper's. Killing will be your lifestyle, and I assure you, it's not for everybody. You will receive a codename and be forced to use false identities when traversing through normal society. You will go underground, you will be a shadow, unknown to popular culture. There is no going back once you go in."

Bill spread his hands out in front of him, brows arching dramatically, "You will trade in the nothingness that you have now, for everything you are capable of having."

Suddenly, he stood up and rounded to the other side of the booth, a hand falling on Beatrix's shoulder. He stared down at her with a ferocious intensity, "I'm going to go outside...and stand near my car. You will do one of two things: either, you turn down my offer...which I will not take personally, and you will turn right once you get outside and forget you ever saw me or talked to me. If, I find you talked about this, or about me to anybody else, and believe me...I will know, I will have you killed. Or, you accept my offer, which I would like very much, and you will take a left once you get outside. Around the left side of this building is my car. It is a cherry red '67 Mustang, you can't miss it. I will be standing beside it, and from there on...you will be under my training until the point you either become deceased, or leave my employment under very extreme circumstances. I will wait outside for fifteen minutes. If you are not at my side within those fifteen minutes, I will assume you chose not to accept my offer and will be on my way."

He smiled, breaking the professional speech, there was suddenly a rich fondness in his look, "If I do not see you again, I would just like to say...that is has been a genuine pleasure meeting you, Beatrix Kiddo. You are a true individual in a sea of mundane simplicity and I would wish upon you to always be true to yourself." With that, he bent down and placed a brief chaste kiss on her forehead.

With one last crooked smile, and a half wink, he turned and strolled out of the bar; silver belt buckle gleaming off the neon lights, boots clomping rhythmically across the floor. The cowbell rang as he shut the door behind him and left Beatrix to her choice.

Choices list five; 1. Run away from home (done), 2. find a local bar (done), 3. beat the shit out of some drunken asshole (more than done), 4. get a drink (satisfactory)… 5. become a contract killer…?

Beatrix had made a hell of a lot of choices in the small time factor of one day and the day wasn't even over. This list, shifting through her mind, listed things that had been finished. Although this list wasn't as intense as lists she'd make in previous years, it was pretty fucking daunting to a twenty year old.

Number five was unfinished and though it had not been on her list to begin with, not that much of it had been, the whole list was sporadically thought out; she had sub-choices to allow her to finish it. She was going to take her time on this one.

Two minutes passed. The tall perplexed blonde settled back in the chair, arms crossing over her chest, and her expression hard. She was hardly a legal adult but she was going to react like any person twice her age. This came a little easier for her, she had been known to act 'older' and 'wiser' beyond her years, not that she couldn't flip the switch and act just as 'younger' and 'foolish'. But for now she was shooting for older.

First course of thought; what the fuck had just happened? That was easy. Some random guy she had never met in her life saw her kick ass, liked it, and offered her a job kicking some more ass. Ah, but she wasn't just being asked to kick ass she was being asked to kill ass.

Four minutes passed; second course of thought. Was she capable of killing? According to Bill she was more than capable. As odd as it felt she did feel honored…in one way or another. She had loved martial arts from a young age and she idolized the samurai sword, which most people thought was childish. It had become a strange hobby and she never fathomed using it to kill people…hurt…but not kill. This brought on a second question; was she a killer? This question would become up for debate in years to come…but at the moment…she was pretty sure she wasn't. Of course she had wanted to kill people, especially if they had done something heinous to her, or just pissed her off; but that had been childish thought. She never actually thought of going through with it. But…she felt the drive…the exhilaration of being capable of thrusting a spear through a heart, or firing a bullet that put brains and skull into one bloody mess……or chopping off a limb…it was…cool.

Okay, no one ever said Beatrix was an angel or completely…well… No one that went into the business of killing other human beings was sane.

Ten minutes passed. Hypothetically questioning now; what if she did take the job? Bill said it wasn't going to be easy. She was sure just by the idea it was going to be fucking hell. But, either by being at a naïve age or that she was more egotistic than first perceived, she knew she could handle it. And besides, it was a challenge and she loved a good challenge. The challenge to just survive the training was enticing.

Twelve minutes…She had nothing to give up. She was alone but if she took the job she wouldn't be lonely…not really. She'd have a family, a fucked up one, but a family that she was sure would be a hell of a lot better than what she left behind. When Beatrix left home she was set on the idea of proving her mother wrong. She was going to make a new life for herself, a life with meaning and money. Killing certainly offered that…it offered a great deal.

Thirteen minutes…Beatrix wasn't one for true morals, she didn't believe in much, but perhaps meeting Bill was fate…or it was freakishly coincidental. Either way, that more than proved to the blonde that maybe this was…someone…giving her a chance to start over with a clean slate.

Fourteen minutes… "Fuck," she muttered and bolted up from the stool. The tall blonde took quick steps to the bar where she snatched up her duffle, swung it over her shoulder and soon followed to the door.

She paused briefly outside, standing between the left and the right. Ten seconds and she had to make her choice. All of it seemed right…or rather left in this case. She had made her choice…she wanted to start over, she wanted to learn, to be taught, to be challenged, start new relationships, take risks…she wanted to kill.

Fifteen minutes…there was the cherry red '67 Mustang and with a hand on the door was Bill. Sandaled feet crunched against the graveled ground as she approached him, her silhouette outlined by the flickering street lamps; arms still crossed, blonde head canted slightly to the side, blue eyes bright and alert. She stopped at the hood of the car. "Okay," she breathed with confident steadiness. "I accept."

Bill turned to look at her, framed in the street lamps, and then he smiled.

"Of course you do," he replied softly.

And he had known, even until that last minute, that she would take that left turn. Calling Bill overconfident would be something of an overstatement, but in this case, he was right. He was confident in his choice, confident that this young woman had the capabilities to do a worthy job for him. He knew she was a killer, and he would often reflect on just how sure he was over the years, but he had no idea just how good of a killer Beatrix Kiddo would become, along with the others things she could eventually become to him…. that she would inevitably end his life. Like Beatrix, he was just as blind to the future as she was.

Walking over to the other side of the car, Bill opened the door for the tall blonde. Just as he was doing this, a pickup truck came screeching into the parking lot, coming to a jarring halt next to Bill's car. A brown haired young man wearing a black leather cowboy hat, a white-shirt and blue jeans jumped out.

"Bill, goddamn...I am so sorry," the man, who was unshaven but still formidably good looking approached Bill, slightly out of breath, "I lost track of time," he drawled with a Texan accent, "I'm really sorry..."

Bill regarded the man calmly and without an ounce of emotion, still holding the door open from Beatrix, who was now slipping into the passenger's seat of the convertible.

The other man's eyes flickered to the tall blonde, "Oh geez...uh...caught ya at a bad time...didn't know ya had plans with a lady friend."

"Actually," Bill said shutting the door, allowing Beatrix to prop her arm over the downed window, "...this 'lady friend' has far bigger plans than you do now, she so happens to be taking your place."

The man's jaw dropped, "What? Her? A woman? Hey...wait a sec...I was just a few minutes...late..."

Bill returned to the driver's side, getting in and shutting his own door. He cast a dark look at the staring young man, "You were thirty minutes late," Bill corrected, starting the car with a roar of the engine, "Fate does not reward untimeliness partner, and," he raised a brow, "...I don't play 'boys club', so I recommend you get that piece of shit truck out of my fucking way."

"Hold up, just a sec...," the man took a few steps forward.

"I have a gun about ten inches from my right hand," Bill said quietly, still staring at the man, "How close is yours?"

The man blinked a few times, an obvious rush of anger flushing his ears and forehead. Yet, he seemed to know Bill well enough to know when he was through. "Yeah…fine," he mumbled and jumped back in his truck, slamming the door, and peeling out of the parking lot with screeching tires.

Smirking, Bill put the car in reverse and whipped out of the parking lot, throwing the car into third gear before they were even fifty feet down the road. He glanced at Beatrix, still smirking, "You've ever been to Mexico, Kiddo?"

She gave a small shake of her head in response. "No, can't say I have," she replied lightly but loud enough to be heard. "I've lived in various parts of Texas all of my life. But..I've heard good things."

Somehow managing to see and drive ridiculously fast through a flying curtain of hair, Bill smiled, "I love Mexico," he mused over the rush of air, "I wasn't quite born there, but I grew up there...call me, a transplanted native."

He pulled the car onto the highway, taking the southern route, "Besides," he continued, "...Mexico provides certain...leniencies in way of legalities. I just bought a place there earlier this year, it's still a little rough around the edges, but...I think you'll like it."

With that, Bill threw the Mustang into fifth gear, assuring they would reach their destination within less than two hours. He glanced over to the tall blonde offering a faint smile which she tentatively returned before casting her eyes to the winding road before her.

A road that would lead her into a dizzying spiral of events, challenging risks, harsh choices, intense training, and eventually come against the trials of love, loss, heartbreak, betrayal, redemption, and eventually revenge. But, for now it was just a road…


End file.
